


The Prince and The Tree

by sharkplant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, M/M, Other, The Giving Tree - Freeform, Tree!Cas, prince!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkplant/pseuds/sharkplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a prince and he was a tree, I don't how I can make it any more obvious. Fairy-tale!AU (kinda). Based off The Giving Tree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [octopifer](http://www.octopifer.tumblr.com) and her piece of art [The Prince and His Garden](http://octopifer.tumblr.com/post/39805160794/the-prince-and-his-garden-my-secret-santa)
> 
> Because when ever you compare Castiel to The Giving Tree you are going to cry.
> 
> I am proud of myself for writing something about Dean without swearing (either him or me).
> 
> Un-beta'd as always. ~~if anyone would like to be my beta, make yourself known and I will love you forever~~

_Tree meets Prince._

Once there was a tree.

He wasn’t very tall or very pretty, his trunk was knotted and had hundreds of roots and tens of branches, more leaves than one could count in a life time, which rustled softly when the breeze blew through.

The tree was also impossibly old, older than the kingdom of which he was a part of.

Every day for a hundred years, the tree’s trunk became smoother and warmer and softer and he lost roots and branches and leaves until one morning, the tree wasn’t a tree any more and he had a body of flesh and blood and bone instead of a torso of hard wood and two feet instead of hundreds of roots and two arms instead of tens of branches and a wave of dark hair instead of leaves.

He walked for miles out of the forest and into the kingdom, his steps stiff but for a purpose and he smiled at all he saw along the way.

Everyone was wearing their best clothes and rich foods were being sold and there were flowers everywhere and the tree felt out of place among the crowd; he clothed only in deep brown stockings and a pale tunic, but he waded through them to see what the cause of the festivities was. 

There was a high raised box looming over the end of the market. 

And standing in the high box was a man. He was dressed splendidly and by him was a woman and she was dressed splendidly and in her arms was a baby. And he was asleep.

Everyone started to come together and there was much chatter.

The man raised his hand and quiet fell.

‘My people,’ he called, ‘my people, today, I have been given a son. May we thank the angels above for our prince and future king, Dean.’

It was a strange name, the tree thought as he trekked back to his home, a simple glade of grass and flowers in the centre of the dense forest, next to a stream.

It was a strange name he thought as he sunk his feet under the earth and he could feel his toes breaking into roots and his arms snapping into two, four, six, more branches and his chest changing, air leaving his hardening lungs and his heart turning to wood mid-beat as the sun set and the moon rose. It was a strange name, but a nice one nonetheless.

_Prince meets tree._

Once there was a prince.

He wasn’t very tall or very pretty, he was very curious and he had more freckles on his face than you could count in a life time, so many that his mother said that they were the kisses of angels left on his skin.

The prince was also very young, just four full cycles of the seasons.

One day, he woke to find his mother very fat and looking very sick.

When night fell, there was a wailing throughout the castle and when the prince went to see, there was a baby in his mother’s arms.

The kingdom was called, like when he was born the prince was told, and they rejoiced at the birth of another prince.

Moons passed and the elder prince grew tired of the kingdom’s attentions to his brother. That and his crying, which was relentless.

He wandered out into the garden and he sat the edge of it, staring at the fence of hedge that surrounded him.

His father’s words passed through his head. ‘Do not pass the hedges, Dean. The woods are not for you. Not yet.’

The prince shook his head, rushed back inside and got a cloak and some food and left the castle.

He looked at his home before climbing through the hedge, ignoring his father’s heed, circling through his brain.

There was no order, the prince noted first, trees grew where they wanted and there was no clear path to follow. The smell of dirt and pollen was thick in his nose.

He followed the line of where the trees didn’t grow and walked and walked and walked until his feet were sore.

The prince came upon a place of grass, flowers, a stream and a single tree, knotted and whirled and looking impossibly old.

He sat under it and ate.

He leaned his head back and was about to fall asleep when there was a rustling on the outskirts of his glade.

The prince’s head rose with a start and there was a figure in a dark cloak and under their cloak were shinning yellow eyes.

Suddenly a branch came down from the tree and scooped up the prince high into the tree’s branches.

Yellow eyes looked around for a moment and the prince could see there was a knife on his waist.

He didn’t dare breathe.

The figure left the glade and went the way the prince had come.

The prince waited until the sun had set before he climbed down, but his cloak got stuck on a branch, but he had no time.

When both of his feet were on the ground, he stroked a hand along the trunk.

‘Thank you for saving me,’ he whispered and kissed the tree.

He left the glade at a run.


	2. Chapter 1 - Prince becomes king and Tree gets a new name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes
> 
> I am writing a tree and a human
> 
> Round the twist anyone?  
>  ~~I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love with a tree~~~
> 
> The kudos is very much appreciated. Thank you.

A year later, the tree smiled when he saw the prince come entered his glade again.

And he could smile now.

He had a face and a neck and a chest of flesh and blood and bone rather than wood but there were still vines of trunk that keep him still. He had two arms instead of tens of branches, but the ones that remained grew from his back.

And the prince smiled back. ‘Hello Tree. You have a face,’ he said, coming in close and running a hand along his cheek.

‘Hello Prince.’

The smile turned into a grin. ‘And you can speak.’

‘Yes, Prince, I can.’

‘How did you get a face and a body and a voice, Tree? Did you steal them?’ the prince asked, suspicious.

‘No, Prince. I did not steal them.’ The tree replied.

The prince narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you magic, Tree?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Are you the king of the trees, Tree?’ the prince asked.

‘I don’t know, Prince,’ the tree replied.

The prince sat on one of his hundreds of roots and leaned back against the tree. ‘I wish I was the king.’

‘Of the trees?’

‘No. Of the kingdom.’

‘Why?’ the tree asked.

‘Because then I could do whatever I want, whenever I want. And I could keep everyone safe. Then I would be happy.’

‘Prince?’

‘Yes, Tree?’

‘Would you like to be king of the forest?’

The prince smiled. ‘Yes.’

And so the tree pulled out some of his leaves and plucked flowers from the ground and made a crown for the prince, whose eyes were shining in awe.

When the tree was finished, he asked the prince to kneel.

‘I dub thee, King of the forest, for as long as anything grows,’ he murmured and he placed the crown on the prince’s head.

The prince smiled and touched the crown, making sure it was indeed there.

And the tree smiled.

‘Can I climb you?’ the prince asked.

The tree nodded. ‘Yes.’

And so the prince did.

He frightened a few birds as he navigated his way through the tangle of branches, stepping lightly because he didn’t want to strain his friend, whose back the branches grew from.

‘Can I swing from your branches?’ the prince asked.

The tree nodded. ‘Yes.’

And so the prince did.

He got dizzy and clung on as the tree swung him around and he laughed and laughed until he couldn’t laugh any more.

He noticed some red amongst the whir of green.

‘Can I eat the apples?’ The prince asked.

The tree nodded. ‘Yes.’

And so the prince did.

He was careful when he plucked them, because the tree winced when he pulled too hard and he ate and ate and ate until he was leaning back against the trunk and he thought he might burst.

The prince yawned.

‘May I sleep in your shade?’ the prince asked.

The tree nodded. ‘Yes.’

His head found a comfortable knot and he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed.

‘I love you, Tree.’

‘And I love you, Prince.’

The tree waited until the prince was asleep to put the cloak he had snagged over him.

~*~*~*~

The Prince came to tree every day for years and climbed him and swung from his branches and ate his apples and slept under his shade.

He also talked to him endlessly, about what was happening in the castle, about his brother, whom the tree wanted to meet and the prince promised he would when he got a little older.

But the prince didn’t just talk about the happy things, he talked to the tree about the sad things too.

He talked about his mother dying in the fire the night he saw the yellow eyed figure. He talked about how father wanted him to learn to keep himself safe when really he just wanted to come and see Tree every day.

One day he even talked about how father wanted him and his brother to leave the castle to keep them safe.

The prince started to cry. ‘I don’t want to leave here. I want to stay with you, Tree.’

‘And I want you to stay here, Prince.’

The tree held him through his tears and promised him quietly that he would never hurt him.

~*~*~*~

‘Tree?’

‘Yes, Prince?’

‘How old are you?

The tree smiled.

‘Old, Prince. Very old. So old, I cannot give you a proper answer.’

‘Are you older than my father?’

‘Yes.’

No one spoke for a few minutes as they listened to the breeze and how they caused the tree’s leaves to rustle. 

‘How old are you, Prince?’

The prince smiled.

‘Ten years.’ 

The tree smiled. ‘I remember when you were born, Prince.’

The prince looked at the tree, his face written with disbelief. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. The first time I saw you, you were asleep in your mother’s arms.’

The prince tensed at that.

‘She was very beautiful,’ the tree said.

‘You’re beautiful. I love you, Tree.’

‘And I love you, Prince.’

~*~*~*~

‘Prince?’

‘Yes, Tree?’

‘Why do you call me, “Tree”?’ 

The prince considered this.

‘Because that is what you are,’ the prince answered.

The tree nodded. ‘I don’t like being called Tree.’

The prince nodded. ‘What do you want to be called?’

The tree considered this.

‘I don’t know,’ the tree answered.

‘Well, can I name you?’ the prince asked.

The tree nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Can I have an apple while I think?’

The tree didn’t respond other than laughing and bringing down a branch, picking the best apple he could see and offering it to the prince.

The prince chewed thoughtfully.

‘Tree?’

‘Yes, Prince?’

‘Do you know about angels?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you said you were there on the day I was born. And then that time with the yellow eyed figure, you saved me. And you have been my friend for so many years, I think you are   
the angel my mother always talked about.’

‘Which angel is that, Prince?’ The tree asked.

‘Castiel,’ the prince replied. ‘Can I call you Castiel?’

The tree considered this.

‘Yes.’

The prince smiled.

‘Tree?’

‘Yes, Prince.’

‘Why do you call me “Prince”?’

The tree considered this.

‘Because that is what you are,’ the tree answered.

The prince nodded. ‘I don’t like being called Prince.’

The tree nodded. ‘What do you want to be called?’

‘Dean.’

The tree smiled. ‘Hello, Dean.’

The prince smiled back. ‘Hello, Castiel.’

That was the last that the tree saw of the prince for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Form this point on, it will pretty much follow the order of The Giving Tree with some extra bits just to make you laugh or cry or something. 
> 
> And we meet Sam next chapter


	3. Chapter 2 - In which apples are picked, the Prince the wonders of pastry and the Tree makes a new friend

The prince was gone so long in fact that the tree had lost and regrown his leaves twice before his prince returned, only now they were auburn, falling from the tree’s tens of branches to the ground where they crunched underfoot.

‘Hello Dean,’ the tree said, happy again to see his friend.

‘Hello Castiel,’ the prince said, smiling.

He could see the prince was taller and his steps were surer, freckles less prominent on all but his nose. But he wasn’t dressed right. He had his cloak, red as the blood he bled but it was dirty in places and tattered. And under it wasn’t his fine jacket with golden thread but a tunic like the one tree wore when he had feet.

But all in all it didn’t matter to the tree, because his prince was where he was meant to be.

He extended his arms. ‘Come. Play. Swing from my branches and eat apples and sleep in my shade and tell me about the kingdom and be the king of the forest again. Be happy.’

The face with which the prince looked at the tree was odd; his mouth was smiling but his eyes weren’t and his eyebrows were knit together. And by is the tree felt hurt and he didn’t know why.

‘I’m far too big to climb, Castiel. And that’s not why I am here.’ The prince looked at his feet, which were bare and not covered by his boots. ‘Father insisted we leave the castle and look for who killed my mother. He is still the king and I am still a prince but we don’t have that life. We live far away now. I hate it there. We are always hungry. We need money.’

The tree cocked his head. ‘Dean, I have no riches other than my leaves and my apples.’ And then a thought struck the tree. ‘Take them; my apples. Take them all, I have no need for them while you are gone, and sell them. Then you will have money and you will not be hungry, you will be happy.’

The prince smiled a soft smile, the tree’s favourite smile of the many that he had and the few he saw, and he nodded. He clambered up the tree and collected all the apples from his branches to make a pile down among the tree’s roots, but the tree was wincing every time the prince plucked and apple because he was pulling too hard in his excitement.

When the prince climbed down, he could barely hold them all and he left with a grin on his face.

And the tree was happy. Because the prince’s happiness was his.

~*~*~*~

To the tree’s delight, the prince returned quite soon; the winter had passed and new leaves were starting to bud.

‘Hello, Castiel.’ The prince said but there was someone standing in his shadow.

‘Hello, Dean. And- and who is this?’ The tree extended a hand toward the someone.

The prince motioned with his head and when the someone didn’t follow the direction, he lightly shoved him forward.

‘Hello Castiel. I’m Sam.’ The someone said. He was short and lanky, he had a sweet face under clumpy chestnut hair. 

‘My little brother,’ the prince added, ruffling Sam’s hair. ‘The one who cried all the time,’ he teased.’

‘I didn’t not cry all the time!’ Sam arguing, throwing off Dean’s hand.

The tree smiled at the brothers. ‘Hello Sam.’

‘Are you magic, Castiel?’

The tree smiled. ‘I rather think I am,’ he admitted.

The prince was grinning. ‘Castiel, your apples, we sold a quarter of them and keep the rest but those we sold them to said they would be fantastic for pastry. So we sold another quarter. And they were right!’

And the tree smiled because the prince’s happiness was his. ‘That is good, Dean. I am happy.’

The prince’s face fell a little. ‘We are still living far away, even farther now. We travel. Tryi-‘

‘Trying to find your mother’s killer, yes.’ 

But it didn’t matter to the tree, because his prince was where he was meant to be.

He extended his arms. ‘Come. Play. Swing from my branches and eat apples and sleep in my shade and tell me about the kingdom and be the king of the forest again. Be happy.’

The prince smiled but it wasn’t happy. He shook his head. 

‘I am far too big to climb and play, Castiel, you know that.’

The tree sighed. ‘At least sleep in my shade before you return to your father. And Sam isn’t too big,’ the tree smiled at Sam, whose face cracked into a grin and he clambered up the tree’s roots and up his torso and then hid in the branches.

The prince nodded. He nestled himself in his place, tucking his arms, his head resting upon the knot that he always did and closed his eyes.

‘Wake me two hours before sun down, Castiel. Father will worry about us.’ The back end of his request was broken into a by a yawn.

‘Of course, Dean. Sleep.’

The tree then added as an afterthought, ‘I love you, Dean.’

He got a loud snore in return and somewhere in the nest of his tens of branches there was a spit of giggles.

‘Do you really love him?’ Sam asked, swinging from a branch.

The tree nodded. ‘I do.’

‘For how long will you love Dean?’

‘Until I get cut down and then even after.’

Sam was quiet for a few beats.

‘Do you love me?’ he yawned.

The tree scooped Sam from the branch and put him next to his brother. 

‘Of course I do.’

‘But not as much as Dean?’ Sam pressed.

‘Sleep, Sam.’

‘I know you do. It’s OK. Dean loves you too.’

The tree waited until the brothers were asleep until he did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Dean is a dick with not saying thanks and all and I hope I got Sammy right :\
> 
> Next: Branches


	4. Chapter 3 - In which there is a wedding, the tree is lonely and the prince isn't (or so he says)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever to be posted but I had this thing called life got in the way and all these other ideas for fics (will be posting the first bit of Perkatory soon along and another bit of catharsis for our lovely brothers Winchester)
> 
> So I lied.
> 
> There will be no branch cutting just yet but there are plenty of ~*~ feelings ~*~

After the brothers left, the tree was alone in his glade for some time.

Summer ended and Winter began and the tree grew cold and he wanted to sleep, sleep and stay still until the prince came back.

He closed his eyes and he dreamed.

He dreamed about all the ways he could convince the prince to stay in his kingdom. But it was a selfish wish but one he entertained anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be back soon.

But his heart did not sink at the thought; he slept on through the winter and into the spring and longer and on.

He slept for years. Until one winter when the sleep started to ease.

The tree liked sleeping. He liked pretending that the prince and his brother were resting on his roots, which was easy enough with the heavy snow falling every day, sitting chill on his branches and back and strewn through his hair, his arms wrapped around his chest so at least his heart wouldn’t grow cold.

One morning, in the middle of the cold, there were footsteps nearby, not loud enough to wake the tree, but he was aware because his hundreds of roots reached out for yards under the earth.

There was laughter and stumbling and inquires of well-being and the tree slept on.

Or at least tried to because the voice was the prince’s but it wasn’t alone.

The laughter was louder more high pitched than the prince’s.

A girl’s then.

He could feel her shoes on the ground like fingers pressing on nerves.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she marvelled, navigating her way through

‘He is isn’t he,’ The prince agreed.

‘He?’ the girl asked.

There was a warm hand on the tree’s cheek and he opened his eyes to see the prince smiling at him.

‘Hello, Castiel.’

‘Hello, Dean.’

The girl, who had long blonde hair and didn’t wear a dress but rather tunic, cloak and tights, gasped and her eyes widened. ‘A talking tree. Is it-‘

‘He,’ the prince corrected.

‘Is he magic?’

The tree smiled. ‘Yes.’

‘Why are you named Castiel?’

‘Because Dean named me.’

The girl looked at the prince. ‘You named a tree after your angel?’

The prince shrugged. ‘Castiel saved my life. He is my friend and I love him.’

The tree smiled and his heart warmed at the omission. ‘Come. Play. Swing from my branches and eat apples and sleep in my shade and tell me about the kingdom and be the king of the forest again. Be happy.’

The prince looked at him oddly. ‘But I am happy, Castiel. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m back in my home and I have found a love,’ he looked fondly at the girl. ‘Not to mention, I am far too old to be playing in trees.’

The tree felt hurt.

‘Castiel, Jo and I have to leave. We weren’t meant to come here. But I wanted you to meet Jo and-’ the prince pauses. ‘I needed to see you again.’

‘I have been waiting for you a long time, Dean. It has been good to see you,’ Half lied the tree.

Jo took the prince’s arm and they started to walk away. 

‘You know, Dean, angels fall sometimes. Do you think Castiel is Castiel?’

‘Maybe,’ he said quietly.

The tree counted their footsteps as they went.

But then one was leaving and the other was sprinting back.

The prince was running back to the tree.

‘I couldn’t go without saying goodbye,’ he said and kissed the tree, holding his chill face wit both hands until the tree’s face flushed.

‘I love you, Castiel ’ The prince whispered, pulling away but not letting go.

‘And I love you, Dean.’

They smiled at each other until a call, Jo, reached his ears.

The prince yelled, ‘Coming my love’ over his shoulder and left.

The tree felt the edges of the cold on his face. 

He brought a hand up and touched gingerly at his mouth.

Dean had kissed him.

His fingertips felt the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

~*~*~*~

The tree was dozing in the summer warm, his branches swaying in the gentle breeze, hundreds of new leaves rustling quietly and a family of birds constructed a nest.

The tree’s head was ducked into his chest and his arms were crossed. He snored lightly.

There was something happening though. Something running.

Before the tree’s eyes were open properly, there was the prince standing in front of him, his chest heaving under his fine buttoned tunic.

‘Hello Castiel,’ the prince said, breathless and grinning.

‘Hello Dean,’ the tree yawned. ‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’

‘Nor did I.’

‘Come. Play. Swing from my branches and eat apples and sleep in my shade and tell me about the kingdom and be the king of the forest again. Be happy.’ 

The prince shook his head. ‘No, I can’t. Listen, Castiel, I need some advice.’

‘What about?’

The smile dropped from the prince’s face. ‘About love.’

The tree’s lips curled wistful. ‘I don’t know much but I’ll try.’

The prince heaved a deep breath. ‘The kingdom wants me to marry Jo.’

‘What does your father say?’

‘Father?’ The prince’s eyes were hurt. ‘My father’s dead, Castiel. Yellow eyes killed him.’

The tree didn’t breath for a moment, and even though he did not need to to survive, it still strained at his chest.

‘I’m sorry, Dean.’

‘Don’t be,’ the prince said. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

The tree didn’t meet the prince’s eyes. ‘What did you want to ask me?’

The prince ran a hand through his hair. ‘The kingdom wants me to marry Jo and I care about her but-‘ the prince stared at the ground before looking up, his face confused and hurt and more emotions than the tree thought could reflect on a face.

I don’t love her,’ he finished and sat down under the tree.

‘I wish I wasn’t born a prince,’ the prince complained. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to be king now. I don’t want to be king.’

‘Why?’ the tree asked.

‘Because I have to do everything for everyone else. What about me?’ the prince says.

‘Dean, do have you have to.’

The prince half turned and considered.

The tree continued. ‘Do what you have to and when you need to be the only one who matters come back. And then you’ll be happy.’

‘And I can be king of the forest again,’ the prince half smiled.

‘Yes.’

The tree let his selfish want grow, just a little in the quiet.

‘So I should marry Jo?’ the prince asked.

It hurt the tree to say it. ‘Yes. Because that is for the good of your kingdom.’

‘But I like this kingdom.’ The prince raised a hand to refer to the green splendour around them, ‘I want to stay here.’

And yet while the prince’s happiness was his, he had to give good advice and to be a good guide.

‘Marry Jo and keep your kingdom happy. You will learn to love her, Dean.’

The prince sniffed. ‘I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but-‘ he paused. ‘Castiel, if I could marry you, I would. You would be a wonderful king.’

‘I am a tree, Dean,’ the tree said, obviously.

‘I don’t care. You are more human than all of them. More human than me.’

The tree laughed. ‘Not more than you, Dean.’

The prince smiled. ‘I will marry Jo. But I will be seeing you more. You make me happy.’

‘You make me happy too.’

The prince stood and hugged the tree, the prince’s face still a little wet with tears.

And for a second, the tree didn’t see the king of the realm, but his prince, not yet eight years, crying about all the wrong in his life in his arms.

When they parted and the prince made to leave, he didn’t say goodbye or anything else.

But the tree knew he was thinking ‘I love you’.

~*~*~*~

The prince’s words were true; he saw the tree almost every day, talking to him and trying to sound excited about the wedding the tree had advised him of.

He asked for the tree’s opinion about things; about who to invite, what to say to for vows, what food to serve, all the things that the prince should have been discussing with his fiancé and not a tree.

It was on these occasions that Jo would come looking for Dean when he was gone for too long and would take him back to the castle, the prince mouthing promising of being back tomorrow.

One thing the prince has insisted on was his crown was to be made of flowers and it was to be made by the tree himself. He didn’t want to wear something made of heavy metal until he absolutely had too.

The night before he was due to be wed, the prince slept under the tree while he made the crown of flowers, trying his earnest not to drop petals and sticks on the prince’s sleeping face.

When the prince woke up, the tree thought it might be nice for him to wake with the crown on his head.

He was awed with the piece, the ornate knots and thorns, the roses and flowers and grass.

‘It’s beautiful, Castiel.’

‘Much like its wearer,’ the tree said.

‘Much like its maker,’ the prince added.

‘I’m going to be wed at noon,’ the prince said after a moment, looking up into the sky and seeing the pinks and the yellows and the blues streaking the sky like smeared paint on a canvas.

‘Then go be wed, Dean. I will be here when you want me.’

This time the prince did say goodbye and the tree knew why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a dick who never says thank you and I like Jo so I thought why not sling her in there because she is great.
> 
> I'm going to try and update this every fortnight but school might say otherwise so we shall see.
> 
> Next: Branches (I promise)
> 
> The comments and the kudos are so very much appreciated so I thank you for reading and your support
> 
> x


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